


walk a road, horizons change

by soturna



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Android!Weiss, F/F, Slow Burn, bees schnees week 2020
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25512967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soturna/pseuds/soturna
Summary: Following your own path often changes the destination.orThe one in which a gang of gays fights the government and Weiss deals with A Lot™.
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Weiss Schnee/Yang Xiao Long
Comments: 14
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For Bees Schnees Week 2020, day 5, prompt: "sci-fi or fantasy"

When the third part clicks into place the system balances itself, whirring to life as the Dust flows between the interlinked parts. Satisfied the automaton will work again, Yang begins the delicate process of sealing the core. The humming of workshop lamps along with the constant metallic sounds of tools on machinery creates a steady, comforting rhythm, and she can work without thinking much beyond the automated movements of years of experience, for which Yang is thankful: her shift is now clocking at nearly 15 hours. She’s not exactly working at full mental capacity anymore. And being alone in the large building really does not help with chasing away the weariness.

It pays off however, as it always does, when a few minutes later the telltale sound of the wide metal utility doors being opened calls her to attention. Way past the expected time.

Her previous task and tools now set aside, she wipes her hands on a piece of cloth while the large cargo vehicle maneuvers, reversing into the entrance. The driver jumps out, looks her up and down and does a quick scan of the workshop before turning towards the truck and getting the mechanical arms started on unloading the bright white container – so obviously Atlesian – off the back.

“Just you here again?” he asks.

Yang hums. “It _is_ the middle of the night. Watts left me to receive his package,” that is to say he just left her with all the boring work, but her being such a _dedicated_ employee she was all too happy to stay and supervise a delivery today.

“You’re pretty late. Something happen?”

“Dunno.” he says, detaches the container and brings her an electronic manifest. “When the box got sent down it was already delayed and sealed. Whatever happened was upstairs.” he hands Yang the device, “Acknowledge delivery, please.”

Yang takes it and skims over the list, mostly the usual: a whole lot of broken machinery to fix – her job apparently – and some specialized supplies her boss asked for. A redacted item but those are not too uncommon, he always takes these projects for himself and shares little to nothing about them. She pulls the ID card from the pocket of her jacket, swipes it across the screen and hands the manifest back.

The man nods – he looks exhausted – and leaves with a murmured "'Night".

As soon as the truck is out she sets off to work. She needs to go through everything that’s inside and look for what can disappear without being noticed, before the morning crew clocks in.

Yang should probably feel at least some guilt over the fact that the small thrill of doing this never loses its appeal to her. She doesn’t.

She reaches for her Scroll and places it against a scanner on the container, where it runs a fake signature for one Dr. Arthur Watts. It works flawlessly, the electronic device unlocks with a satisfying click and she pulls open the metal doors.

The first red flag is the human-sized, black metal cocoon-thing sitting in the middle of the container.

The second is the sign pinned on it with bold letters: [ DANGER: DO NOT OPEN UNLESS CONTAINED ]

The safe thing to do would be to close the container back up and wait for another opportunity to steal tech that isn't high security. Curiosity wins. There’s a small windowed opening on the front and she peers into it.

The third red flag is that there seems to be a person inside. It’s hard to see clearly but whoever it is looks to be either dead or sedated.

A few things pass through her mind at this point: could be the body of someone important they’re trying to dump. Then the warning wouldn’t make sense. Unless the person died because of something contagious. Or maybe this is a dangerous criminal they arrested and couldn’t contain. What would Watts have to do with any of it though? He specializes in robotics.

Maybe she’s being too pessimistic and this is someone who needs help, and Yang simply wouldn’t be able to live with herself if that _is_ the case and she leaves them to their fate. So really it was never even a question.

She looks for a way to open the enclosure and finds it in a small panel with a scanner. The Scroll trick does the job again. The front of it splits vertically across the centre and slides to the sides smoothly.

First thing Yang notices is the wave of… something – like a magnet almost – passing through her body as it dissipates. The prosthesis replacing her right arm feels limp for a moment.

Then she notices the woman in the cocoon.

Long, sleek hair, whiter than any Yang has seen before. Her skin a shade too pale. The white clothes and skirt she’s wearing make her look jarringly out of place down here in the grime, like a mirage.

But it’s a blink of time and Yang doesn’t get to stare for long. The woman’s eyes open suddenly – and they’re blue. So blue, and bright, like an energized Dust core – and there’s panic there.

Before Yang can quite register it, she pushes past her and stumbles ahead. She looks completely lost, twirling in place, eyes darting too fast in every direction seeking for grounding familiarity.

Yang barely hears it when she murmurs:

“Father,”

“Who?”

At that the woman finally seems to notice her presence, wide-eyed and looking a moment away from bolting into the night.

Seeing her out under the light, Yang can parse the details of her face better and has a good view of the thin scar that runs over her left eye.

Well, not quite a scar yet, more like a cut, and looks recent too.

But there’s no blood or flesh exposed.

Just metal.

That changes things.

She heard the rumours from Atlas, of course. But they never implied anything this sophisticated.

 _Anyone_.

Yang recovers quickly and raises her arms up to her sides, palms open and trying to appear as non-threatening as possible.

“Listen, ah, I don’t know what happened but I’m not going to hurt you.”

She doesn’t look convinced, and Yang can’t blame her. The uniform she’s wearing probably doesn’t inspire trust.

Maybe a different approach.

Yang does her best to put on what she imagines is her most reassuring smile.

“What’s your name?”

The woman stares at her for a few moments, uncertain.

“Weiss.”

And instantly her expression hardens, all traces of distress gone.

* * *

“Weiss.”

As soon as she says it she regrets it, and it forces her to take control over herself. Really, she’s extremely disappointed in her cognitive ability for these past few seconds between the moment she wakes up and the current one, in which she’s staring at this tall blonde who is smiling down at her for no apparent reason – what _is_ her problem? Is she having an involuntary muscular reaction, or trying to communicate something?

“Yang.” The woman, presumably Yang, says. “My name. I mean, that’s my name,” she adds awkwardly.

Between that wholly unnecessary clarification and the smile still stubbornly trained on her, Weiss can only assume this Yang thinks her a child, or maybe a fool.

“ _Right_. Charmed.”

She didn’t actually mean to sound so deadpan and dismissive, but currently there are more pressing issues than polite greetings. Namely, being in danger and needing to get as far away as possible from whatever this dreary building is. The high ceiling, smell of oil and suspended machines remind her of unpleasant places.

Weiss turns for the nearest door but doesn’t get far before Yang is standing in the way, hands raised again.

“Wait hold on, you can’t just leave like this,” Yang says, and she’s serious now “You’re not in Atlas anymore, and,”

“Yes, thank you for that _helpful insight_ but the lack of obnoxiously white walls and polished steel was a bit of a giveaway.” Weiss says and brushes past her to leave.

And Yang chuckles. _Chuckles!_

“Okay, listen,” she says and places a hand on her shoulder.

Weiss jerks violently away from the touch and fixes her with the worst glare she can muster.

Yang looks on edge for all of half a moment, then shifts to apologetic. “Sorry,” she says, her voice much lower than its been so far.

Yang seems to be contemplating, brows tense in thought, and settles on something. “I get that you don’t trust me.” she states the obvious.

“I do not.”

“I understand,” and Yang starts to remove her thick worker jacket – it bears the Schnee Dust Company logo.

Weiss narrows her eyes, not quite understanding where this pointless action is going. That is, until Yang reveals the tank top she’s wearing underneath and her arms are on display. Because then Weiss can see the entirety of her modded prosthetic arm, _obviously_. It is quite impressive.

“I’m going to make an assumption here, and hope that I’m right,” Yang says and drops the piece of clothing to the ground ceremoniously. “Considering that you were brought down to Mantle like cargo, locked up in a metal box from Atlas with a ‘do not open’ sign,” she points with a thumb at the pretty hard to miss large container behind her.

“You… Opened a box that explicitly told you _not_ to.”

Yang rolls her eyes, “Yes, and you should be thanking me. And then when I opened it, you woke up like… you were frozen in the middle of a fight or something. You looked scared.” she says, and her words and expression soften noticeably.

“I was not.”

“So I figured you didn’t leave Atlas in good terms. That you’re in trouble.”

Weiss snorts, and there is no humour in it. _In trouble_ is understating it. “Something like that. What’s your point? If you think there’s a reward for apprehending me…”

Yang shakes her head, “No, no. I know, it looks like I work for the SDC and, well technically I do, but they don't have my loyalty is what I’m trying to say.” she nods towards the jacket on the ground – ah so it was an attempt at a symbolic gesture – “And it looks to me like you really need help.”

Oh. “I… _appreciate_ … the sentiment but I will be fine on my own.” Weiss says, and she really just wants this conversation to end so they can go their separate ways.

“The thing is, I don’t think you will and I don’t think you even realize that.” Yang says.

“What are you trying to say?” and Weiss is starting to get vexed now.

“You’re in Mantle. You’re dressed like an Atlesian. And there’s the…” she trails off and gestures vaguely in the direction of her head. “Your left eye.”

Weiss furrows her brows and brings her hand up to feel around it, finding an obvious gash in the artificial skin, from over her brow down to her cheek. The memory of being tackled to the ground, a hard hit to the head and being shoved somewhere before losing conscience suddenly feels very relevant, and fear starts to build again. But if she’s not feeling the damage anymore… How long has she been locked in that box?

Weiss takes a step back, “I, uh, have to go,” if this stranger _knows_ , she might be leading her into a trap.

“Haven’t you been listening?” Yang says, and distress creeps into her tone. “If you go out there like this, on foot and alone, you’ll be scrapped if you’re lucky.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

The mix of fear and anger is becoming volatile.

“Fuck. You’re so stubborn.” Yang says, “You need help, and I can help. That’s all I care about. And I know a place where it’s safe, someone that will also want to help.”

Yang smiles again, “Plus I have a bike. I can get us out of High Mantle long before sunrise.”

Considering her options, Weiss is starting to see the logic in accepting. Truthfully she has no idea what to do and where to go, she never thought she’d make it this far. Yang looks to be in some trouble herself and in contact with some group of subversives if the bits of information she’s putting together are correct, and that brings a certain reassurance. The steadfastness she’s showing is also helping her to calm down, even if she is loath to admit it.

“Fine.” Weiss bites out. “But if this is some sort of scheme, _I_ will hurt _you_.”

Apparently Yang finds that notion amusing, judging by the grin on her face. Still, she simply nods, “Of course.”

Yang runs around the place with familiarity, first gathering some items from her discarded garment, then disappearing into the container and coming out with a black bag, filled. She moves to one of the metal supports where an industrial grade automaton is hanging, gathers a couple of small tools into a bag and pockets it. In a workbench beside it is a worn duster jacket and she throws it towards Weiss. “Catch.”

She does catch it, but wishes she hadn’t. It smells of oil and smoke and is dirt stained. The sneer is unavoidable.

“Wear that. And this.” Yang says and throws her another item: a hat of some sort.

Weiss gapes for a moment, unsure if she’s being facetious.

“I absolutely will _not_.”

“Why not? I wear that all the time. Well, not the beanie, that one we’re stealing.”

“This thing is filthy. It will stain my clothes.”

“What are you, a princess?” Yang says with a laugh. The irony is not lost on Weiss. “You need to cover them and the hair, they draw too much attention.”

She has a point. Weiss still hates it though when she pulls the incredibly oversized duster over herself and fits the beanie to hide as much of her hair as she can.

“Besides, you’re not going to be keeping those fancy clothes for long anyway,”

She follows Yang as she unlocks a small door leading to a back alley. Her focus narrows on what she assumes is the _bike_ referred to. She must admit, it is an impressive vehicle. If there is one thing Weiss can sincerely appreciate, it’s an elegant piece of technology.

It must’ve been apparent, because Yang is looking at her with a certain giddiness. “Weiss, may I introduce you to Bumblebee,” she makes a show of it.

“Of course, you _would_ name your motorcycle.” From the little she’s learned about Yang in the very small amount of time since they’ve met, it feels obvious; fitting even.

“Come on then.” Yang beckons, already on it and revving the engine – it sounds just as piercing as Weiss expected –, the smile on her face is dangerous and makes Weiss question the safety of being driven anywhere by her.

She follows anyway.

* * *

Experiencing Mantle’s streets from this close is beyond what Weiss could’ve imagined. Looking down at the city from the sky shrouded it in a certain curtain of mysticism in her mind, its dark buildings and colourful lights inviting in their contrast with Atlas. But speeding through it with Yang, watching the lights from a million neon signs blur and mix into abstraction is mesmerizing.

There is a clear transition from High Mantle to the neighbourhoods encircling the crater – created by decades of indiscriminate mining operations –, where the skyscrapers, industrial parks, corporate offices and lights give way to darker, narrow streets; residential buildings with a thousand windows and exposed ventilation shafts; rust and debris.

When they’re deep in that part of the city, driving through avenues where the clutter on the facades is such that seeing the sky is difficult, there is another line they cross and this one is more subtle. The area still looks very similar, but the buildings are older and there aren’t any other vehicles circulating. The street gets noticeably wider.

They stop close to a tall apartment building and what looks to be a store front at ground level, with obstructed windows. Weiss follows Yang to an open entryway with a corridor, a heavy duty metal door on one side and a set of stairs at the end of it.

“Wait,” she says.

Yang halts close to the door, looks at her questioningly.

“What is this place?” Weiss looks around and crosses her arms protectively over her chest. “It looks…”

“Like shit?”

“Not the word I would’ve chosen, but yes.” She takes a step closer to Yang, in hopes of appearing more intimidating – hard to do when she towers over Weiss – and narrows her eyes at her. “Why did you bring me here? I thought you said you knew somewhere safe.”

“The first time I came I wasn’t impressed either, don’t worry. But we can’t go to my place, the SDC has surveillance everywhere.”

“And they won’t find us here? How?”

Yang smirks, “Welcome to the Free Zone, no cops and no cameras.” then presses a button on an old intercom.


	2. Chapter 2

They wait for what feels like a long time under the dim light of the hall, Yang pushes the familiar button with a faded number one on it a few more times for good measure – she’s probably long asleep by now, and _will_ try to ignore the buzzing. Finally, the speaker crackles to life and a voice cuts through the static.

“ _Do you have any idea what time it is?_ ”

Yang leans forward and holds down the switch, opening the line. “Hey Blake, it’s me.”

“ _Hi Yang._ ” The feigned annoyance is clear in her tone. “ _Y_ _ou of all people_ _should_ _know how much I value my sleep, so you better have a good reason for_ _this_ _._ ”

Yang rolls her eyes and glances back towards Weiss – she’s observing with a raised eyebrow – chuckles awkwardly. “Yeah, uh- Sorry it’s just that, well… I may have screwed everything up. Slightly. But- but for a good reason, I promise!” She clears her throat. “And I need help.”

“ _What_ _… What did you do?_ ” There is worry in Blake’s voice now, and she hates it.

“Can you just come down here and let us in? It’s cold out.”

“ _Us? Yang…_ ”

Yang cringes slightly and cuts her off before she frets too much. “Okay good, we’ll be waiting bye.”

She steps back and turns to Weiss again, who somehow managed to raise her eyebrow even further. “She just worries too much.”

“And you’re sure this Blake person is fine with me being here?” Weiss asks, insecure.

“Blake is a friend. And she’s always willing to help someone who’s not in good terms with the SDC.”

“Somehow I’m not reassured.” Weiss says, and pauses. “Actually, there is something I should tell-”

The noise of the door being unlocked cuts her off, Blake pokes her head out with a greeting that never leaves her mouth, gapes and pulls it open all the way. She went to bed in her work clothes again, her black hair is dishevelled from sleep, and it makes her look oddly charming in the semi-darkness.  
Which is probably why Yang takes a moment too long to notice Blake’s staring.

Yang clears her throat, “Weiss this is Blake. Blake, Weiss.”

“Uh. Nice to meet you?” Blake says.

Weiss simply nods, stiff and tense.

Blake looks at Yang then, “What’s going on? Is she…?”

“Standing right here, yes.” Weiss says, now clearly uncomfortable.

Yang takes a step closer to Blake, stands between them. “She needs a place to lay low. So do I. Can we come in? Please?”

“Right, yeah, of course.” Blake steps aside for them to enter, locking the place again as soon as they’re through.

The Shroud is slowly becoming another home for Yang, its cramped interior and worn surfaces familiar and comforting, and even at this hour with most of the lights off and the quietness, it still has the feeling of freedom Yang has come to associate with it – and, consequently, Blake.

“I’m sorry, Weiss right? Make yourself comfortable,” Blake says, gestures at the line of booths and crosses her arms. “What happened?” she turns to face Yang with a worried frown.

Yang rubs the back of her neck. “I should’ve called first but we were kind of in a hurry, and there’s no way I can go back to my apartment and yours is the only place I could think of to come to.” She pauses, reorganizes her thoughts. “I exposed myself. At work.”

“Why?”

“Well…” Yang nods towards Weiss, who’s busying herself removing the impromptu disguise but quickly notices their eyes on her.

“I found Weiss here locked up with the cargo that came in, figured they were going to go after her if she escaped and I couldn’t just leave her there.”

“Wait,” Weiss says, “If taking me with you was going to get you in trouble why did you not let me leave on my own like I asked you to? I told you I would make it just fine.”

“You know what, I’m not going to insist anymore, yeah? If you say you would be good by yourself, I believe you.” Yang says, “But here’s the thing, the moment I broke you out of the containment unit I was already compromised. There was no way for you to leave without them knowing it was me.”

There’s a pause before Yang finishes, her voice low. ”And I wasn’t about to throw you back in a box and pretend I never saw anything.”

Weiss stills. “I- I understand. I’m sorry if I appear ungrateful,” she says, her eyes downcast.

“I’m not asking for gratitude.” Yang says, gentle. “Just trust that I sympathize. And that we’ll be fine.”

Blake has been observing the exchange, eyebrows knit. “Yang is right. You’re not the first fugitive from the SDC to come hide out here.”

“I just worry you’re going to get in trouble for someone like me.” Weiss says, and she sounds cold.

“If this is about you having metal bits, then don’t.” Yang says.

Weiss avoids their eyes. “That’s not… What I was talking about.”

“Then what _were_ you talking about?” Blake asks.

Weiss looks at her and there’s that hint of fear again. “I…”

“Hold on.” Yang says, before things get volatile. “If we’re going to talk, I need caffeine because I am exhausted. I’m making coffee.”

She heads to the old hot beverages dispenser behind the counter – maybe _mak_ _ing_ coffee is a strong word when she’s just pressing a button on a machine – “Do you guys want anything?”

“Just tea,” Blake says.

“I don’t drink,” Weiss says, “but thank you for offering.”

“Right, sorry.” Yang says, mentally admonishing herself – way to ease the tension.

“No need to apologize,“ Weiss says, and she does seem to have eased up slightly. “I just don’t get any enjoyment out of it.”

Yang takes the warm plastic cup to Blake and sits on the counter, feet dangling. She sips her mock coffee – the taste isn’t fantastic but it packs a punch so it should keep her awake – and looks at Blake. “So…”

“Let’s start over,” Blake says, “you said you found Weiss with the cargo, right?”

“Yes, she was unconscious and locked in.”

Blake turns to Weiss then, “So what happened? Why would the SDC do that and ship you to Mantle?”

Weiss hesitates for a few seconds, “I honestly don’t know. I tried to escape and got caught, but I don’t understand why they sent me here.”

“Escape? Prison?” Yang asks.

“No. Or, well, not exactly,” Weiss says, “I was running from my father.”

“Your _father_?” Blake asks, “Who is he?”

“That’s…” Weiss paces. “What I was trying to explain.” She sits down at the nearest booth, body coiled, and looks between them. “His name is Jacques. Jacques _Schnee_.”

A beat of stunned silence, “As in ‘ _head of the Schnee Dust Company and unofficial ruler of both cities_ ’ Jacques Schnee?” Blake says, incredulous.

“Oh f-” Yang says, forehead in her hands, “I kidnapped the daughter of the richest, most powerful asshole in Atlas.”

“Excuse me,” Weiss says, “You didn’t _kidnap_ me, you couldn’t if you tried, I followed you willingly.”

“Somehow I don’t think the secret police will care about the nuance when they black-bag me, _Weiss_.” Yang’s voice is strained.

“Now you’re being dramatic, it’s not _that_ bad-”

“Not that bad?” Blake says, raising her voice. “Do you know what the SDC does to people down here?”

“Of course I do!” Weiss says, confrontational, but her voice loses its strength, “at least, some of it.”

Blake backs down, eyebrows furrowed and voice softened. “Is that why you tried to escape?”

“Not… exactly.” Weiss says, slumps in her seat. “I _tried_ to confront him, you know? He didn’t like it.” She winces. “Said he was going to restrain me again, so I ran,” a pause. “I ran only for myself.”

“I-” Yang wants to say something, feels like she needs to comfort Weiss but not sure from what. “I’m sorry,” she says simply.

“I have so many questions,” Blake says. “ _Weiss Schnee_ …” she muses out loud. “The name isn’t completely unfamiliar but… How come I don’t remember hearing about you?”

“Well, my father has always been extremely secretive with family affairs,” Weiss says, “especially after- He didn’t like me being seen in public except at closed business affairs. But I _am_ the nominated heiress of the company.”

“Really?” Blake asks, and pulls her Scroll out of her pocket, absorbed into looking through data.

Yang chuckles, “I can’t believe I joked about you being a princess and you really are one.”

“I’m not-”

“Ex-heiress, actually.” Blake says, scrolling through files.

Weiss turns to her, confused. “What?”

“The public records state one Whitley Schnee as the current heir.”

“Whitley? Who is that?”

“You don’t know him?” Blake says, genuinely surprised. “Apparently he’s your brother. But there’s nothing more on him.”

“I don’t understand. He already replaced me? And who- It’s been a day!”

Blake halts her movements, “Huh. You won’t like this.” She says, and looks at Weiss with sympathetic eyes, like she knows she’s about to shatter something in her. “He’s been declared heir apparent six years ago. After Jacques’ second daughter, Weiss Schnee, was declared missing.”

“ _What?_ ” Weiss is stock still, completely panicked.

“Six years?” Yang asks, “That can’t be right. Maybe he tried doctoring the records to make this Whitley guy’s claim seem more legitimate?”

“Could be, but…” Blake looks at Weiss, “Yeah, that’s probably what happened.”

Weiss looks at them, nods vehemently, clinging to the rope she was thrown. “That makes sense.” but her attention eventually shifts to some point on the table.

The silence is heavy and uncomfortable.

Blake walks over to where Yang is on the counter, back turned to Weiss, leans close.

“She’s a Schnee?” Blake hisses, her voice just below a whisper. “Yang… this is a lot bigger than we can deal with.”

Yang doesn’t respond. Her mind is racing, trying to pick through memories for something that can help her make sense.

“If Robyn finds out,” Blake continues, “she might want to use her as a bargaining chip and I don’t think even I have enough sway to stop it.”

“I know, okay? I’m thinking.” Yang whispers back, harsher than she expected. She takes a deep breath. “But I told Weiss I’d help, and I intend to keep that promise.”

“Of course. I’m not suggesting otherwise, just worried.”

They stay like that for while, and Blake glances at where Weiss is still sitting – her gaze glazed over. “Where did she even come from? I mean, wow, she looks almost perfectly human.”

Yang follows with her eyes, “Yeah.”

“You’re the expert here, did Watts ever say something that could explain or…?”

“No, he never did, you know he doesn’t trust his _lowers_ with that kind of information.” Yang says, unable to avoid the anger that swells at the thought of the horrid man. “But if they sent her to him, then he must know something.”

After a while Yang sighs and walks over to Weiss, avoiding to touch her this time, clears her throat to get her attention. “Are you okay?”

Weiss looks up and tries to appear unfazed, but it doesn’t look convincing. “Of course.”

Yang sits on the opposite side of the booth and gives her a chance to protest before speaking. “Look, whatever happened, we’ll figure it out alright? We still want you to stay here if you’re fine with that.” she looks in Blake’s direction to confirm it, gets a firm nod in return. “We’ll be safe in the Zone until we figure out the extent of the fallout from tonight.”

Weiss nods. “Thank you.” Looks between her and Blake. “Both of you.”

“Don’t mention it," Blake says.

“This _Free Zone_ you talked about,” Weiss says, furrowing her eyebrows. “What is it exactly?”

Yang studies her, trying to parse out if she’s asking out of curiosity, an attempt to trust, or fishing for compromising information. Maybe that’s unfair to think of her, after all, she was upfront about where she came from. She looks at Blake and finds her struggling with probably very similar thoughts, looking at her as if advising caution.

Weiss notices the obvious hesitation, but her expression remains neutral on the surface.

Yang decides to continue trusting her instincts. “It’s this place. This whole sector of Mantle.”

“Atlas has no control here, so we live more or less free of their influence.” Blake adds on, following her judgement call.

“And how is that possible? I was always made to believe the SDC had complete oversight.”

Blake opens her mouth, hesitates, continues with a careful tone. “It’s recent. Only came to be about four or so years ago.” The implication is clear. “A few like-minded people came together and with the help of an Atlesian defector fried every piece of tech in this old residential sector.”

“And they never tried to re-stablish control?”

“They did. They still do,” Yang says.

Blake nods, “We’re slowly rebuilding what we can independently.” she smiles then. “Yang has been helping with that since we found her.”

Yang snorts, “I can’t help it. I see something broken and I _have_ to fix it, this just happens to be the place with the most broken things per square meter.”

Weiss is staring at them, studying. “I see. And you own this…” she waves around them. “Bar?” she asks Blake.

Yang laughs again, “You shouldn’t have said that.”

“The Shroud is not a _bar_. It’s a _community center_.” Blake says, as if it were obvious.

Yang looks at Weiss and mouths the words _it’s totally a bar_ , earning a shove from Blake.

Weiss half-smiles, it’s genuine and Yang feels warmth at the sight. Maybe her instincts really are right.

Yang stifles a yawn, the signs of first light are creeping through the cracks in the blocked windows. “I’m sure you have more questions, but I’m completely drained and have been awake for who knows how long. I need at least a couple hours of sleep.”

“If you don’t mind slumming it,” Blake says, “that old extra mattress is upstairs in the guest room.”

Yang looks at Weiss and Blake notices her hesitation.

“I’ll stay down here. I already woke up and you know me, now I’m wired anyway,” Blake says, “door’s unlocked.”

“Alright.” Yang says, with a silent _thank you_ in her direction and gets up to leave, stops, turns around. “Oh, if you’re going to stay mind getting my stuff from Bumblebee? It’s right outside.” She throws her keys smoothly for Blake to catch.

“Sure. And you call Ruby.” Blake says with a warning.

“We’ll talk more later Weiss, it was a pleasure to meet you.” Yang says, shooting her a cheeky wink.

“L- Likewise.”

Yang walks, barely containing a jog, up the circular staircase in the back of the room that leads to the secondary entrance to the apartment. It’s a mess. Blake’s never been great at organization. She dodges the clutter in the living room and finds her way through the corridor. In the guest room – more like a storage really – she takes out her Scroll and tries an encrypted connection with Ruby. The signal gets through and she places it over a pile of boxes by the wall on speaker mode.

“ _Yang? Is that you?_ ”

“Hey sis.” Yang takes the mattress from its place behind the door and drops it down in the middle of the room.

“ _Where are you? Are you alright? There’s chatter all over_ _and you’re on the wanted list_ _._ ”

She grimaces. Not unexpected, but their response was faster than she’d like. “I’m fine, I’m with Blake.”

Yang takes a worn blanket from the closet and plops down on the thin mattress.

“ _What happened?_ ”

“Long story,” she says, feeling her eyelids heavy now that the prospect of sleep is so close. “Ruby, I’m really tired and I just wanted to let you know I’m okay, I can explain later. You should come visit, get out of that hole for a bit and see something cool.”

“ _Maybe_ _, as soon as whatever you did dies down a bit. They’re doing searches everywhere._ ”

“’Kay.” Yang is about to say goodbye when she remembers something that’ll cheer her up. “Oh, before I go, your new toy worked like a charm. The validation system on the locks didn’t even hiccup.”

There’s an excited squeal from the other side of the line. “ _I knew it. Why waste time hacking into the system when we can pretend-_ ”

“Great, I’m hanging up now.” she says, smiling.

Ruby whines. “ _Fine,_ c _all me soon!_ ”

“Sure thing. Bye.”

Yang turns off the Scroll and lays down, body and mind heavy.

* * *

“Is she always like that?” Weiss asks Blake.

“Like what?”

“So… energetic.”

“Most of the time, yes.” Blake chuckles, it hangs between them for a few moments. “I’m going to go get her things, are you okay by yourself for a minute?”

“Of course.” Weiss says, still not used to the casual way in which these two seem to so freely care.

In fact, she’s glad for the break when Blake leaves through the door they arrived at. She and Yang occupy the spaces they’re in in a way Weiss is not used to. It’s not entirely bad, but she feels overwhelmed nonetheless. It aggravates her.

She finds herself feeling lost, unanchored. It was easy to be carried along for a while, but she already said too much and is now in a completely unfamiliar place, with people she knows nothing about, exposed and with no plan. And if they’re right, if she’s been out for years, who knows how much has changed.

The thought of it… Sleeping through so much time. It’s monstrous. _W_ _hy_ would her father go to such an extreme? – in truth, she knows. The writing has always been on the wall.

Weiss is grappling with these thoughts when Blake comes back in, the black bag she saw Yang take earlier slung over her shoulder and carrying a yellow duffel bag, both of which she deposits on one of the empty tables.

Blake sits down noisily at the booth Weiss is in, opposite of her.

They stare at each other for a few seconds. The intensity of Blake’s gaze, golden and so alive, makes Weiss squirm. “What?”

“I, ah. I want you to know that you can go any time you want.” Blake says.

Weiss becomes defensive, familiar walls coming up. “Are you telling me to leave?”

“No, no- Of course not,” Blake quickly amends. “I just don’t want you to feel like you’re being held against your will or anything.”

“Oh.” Weiss is once again caught off-guard. “I appreciate it.”

Blake hums with a nod and the silence stretches.

Blake breaks it this time. “If you don’t mind me asking,” she pauses, “there is no mention of you being… not Jacques’ biological daughter. In the records.”

Weiss studies her expression but finds it hard to read much beyond vague curiosity. “Makes sense. He always said he wanted to keep it secret.” Thinking of his machinations and power plays brings a scowl to her face.

Blake looks like she wants to probe deeper, but thinks better of it.

“Those records…” Weiss says, “they were not altered were they?” She already knows the answer.

“No.” Blake says, and frowns sympathetically. “I checked the dating. I’m sorry.”

“I missed so much…” Weiss says, and feels a distinct need to cry, if only she could.

“You did, but… it could be a chance to start over,” Blake says, “on your own terms. I think you’ll find life in the Zone not so bad.”

“No offense, but I would rather find my way out of here as soon as possible.”

“I do take offense to that,” Blake says, yet sounds somewhat amused. “but give us a chance.”

Weiss doesn’t know how to respond to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of talking in this one, I know, but I promise it's going somewhere.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter, but if I didn't cut it, it would be too long.  
> Alternate title: The last respite before the rollercoaster crests the first drop.

Yang wakes up with the distinct feeling of not having rested nearly as much as she should have. Her eyes burn and stomach turns. Yet she can’t stay in longer, her mind too active to allow it, and she finds herself hopping down the stairs to the Shroud once again, the little sunlight that makes its way through the windows indicating late morning hours.

The first thing she notices is Blake sitting where she left them, like she hasn’t moved at all, her head laid down on the table over her arms. Sleeping. Of course.

The second is Weiss is not where she left them.

Yang is already reaching for her jacket to go after her when she turns to see Weiss idly looking through the collection of metal bottles and the dispensers behind the counter.

She steps closer, voice low. “I should have known she would fall asleep on you.”

Weiss glances momentarily in her direction and returns to her examination of the multitude of labels. “We did barge in at an awkward time.”

A groggy groan from Blake punctuates it.

Yang hums. Pauses.

“I thought you had left.”

Weiss doesn’t turn when she replies. “And where would I go?” Her tone is sharp, like the first exchange they had, but contained.

Deciding not to test her, Yang turns on the screen fixed on the column and tunes in the news feed – a report on some shiny new product SDC teams developed.

She leans close to where Blake is starting to stir, coaxes her awake with a hand on the shoulder.

“You got anything to eat? I’m starving,” Yang croons.

Blake raises her head, blinking the fog away as she straightens her back. “Sorry… I was tired-” she says, stops while her eyes dart around until they find Weiss’ turned back and releases a sigh. “Pretty sure I’m out of actual food but there should be something in the snacks machine.”

“Great.” Yang turns over to where Weiss is still trying to pretend she’s ignoring them. “Weiss? Can you take out the first bottle from the left of the mid row and get the key behind it for me?”

Weiss narrows her eyes dubiously but does what she asked, fetching the simple metallic key and gingerly dropping it on Yang’s open palm.

“Thanks,” Yang says, overly sweet, and brings it to its slot on the machine nearest to them. She is having an internal debate over choosing between the bland and the blander options when a report from the news catches her attention:

“ _-_ _once again that if you know the whereabouts of subversive agent Yang Xiao Long,_ _or the Atlesian Citizen taken hostage by this criminal_ _, please report it immediately to the appropriate authorities. We’d like to remind the audience that harboring or aiding a wanted individual is a crime fully punishable under corporate law_.”

A few frames of Yang speeding out of an alley and turning into the street are looped behind the announcement. Weiss’ face is clearly visible from that angle but deliberately blurred, her white clothes poking through just enough to mark her as the _Atlesian Citizen_.

“They really didn’t waste any time turning me into a show, huh?” Yang says. “Always wanted to be an outlaw.” She tries to make it sound playful, but it comes out half-hearted even to her own ears.

Blake is already standing, fully alert. Her focus is somewhere else, gears clearly turning behind her eyes. “Why did they protect Weiss’ identity? Showing you with the _long lost daughter_ of Jacques Schnee would excuse any show of force they wanted.”

“I think-” Weiss says, “I don’t know why my father kept me…” she hesitates, “ _hidden_ for that long but whatever his reason was it probably hasn’t changed, so he would want to cover this up, right?”

“Makes sense,” Blake says.

“Well, _something_ has to have changed if he sent you down here,” Yang says. She unwraps a salted nutrient bar and takes a bite, gestures with it. “But the way he did it means that he’s still trying to hide you. I don’t think you being miraculously found in Mantle would help this new heir.”

They stay silent.

What has been nagging at Yang is how her boss – _former_ boss, thankfully – fits into the scheme. Obviously he has the expertise with AI and automata, but why would he be trusted with a situation this delicate?

“The name Arthur Watts,” Yang says, “does it mean anything to you?”

Weiss thinks for a short while before responding. “I remember he was a renowned researcher, _before_ having his citizenship revoked and getting banned from Atlas for conducting unspecified illegal procedures shortly after I was, um, born. But I don’t know any details.”

Yang nods. “That’s about as much as I know too.” She considers how to approach this conversation delicately, trades a look with Blake. “He is the one who runs the workshop I worked in. Where I met you last night.”

“So…” Weiss begins, her expression tense with thought, “you think he was supposed to, what, do something with me?”

“He still works for the SDC, mostly overseeing busywork and repairs of outdated tech,” Yang says, “but he would sometimes get these _projects_ to work on… it was all kept very vague but it was clear they were advanced stuff. I figured he did illegal mods for shady Atlesians, didn’t think much of it.”

“Why would someone as high-profile as Jacques Schnee work with Watts though?” Blake asks.

“He wouldn’t,” Weiss responds instead, “He can pay anyone in Atlas to do anything he wants, so why would he turn to such questionable means?”

“Exactly,” Yang says, “that’s what I don’t get.”

The three return to quiet, troubled thought until Blake interrupts it, springing to action with her usual pragmatism. “Whatever the case, we have to wait and see what they do next. So get used to being here, because this mess is not going to _go away_ on its own.” she says, looking between Yang and Weiss.

Weiss looks aside, “maybe if I turn myself in and reason with-”

Blake interrupts her with a raised hand. “Don’t even finish it. You know it’s not going to work, and you will just be dooming yourself.”

Weiss’ mouth opens and closes, but her subsequent silence is answer enough.

Blake nods towards the screen, once again replaying the wanted announcement. “Everyone will see that,” she says, looks at Yang worried. “Robyn won’t like it. You should go talk to her before she comes knocking.”

“Yeah well, she can find another way to get the supplies she needs,” Yang says.

“You know it’s not that simple,” Blake says, “you’re the only one she trusts who has- _had_ access to Dust.”

Yang rolls her eyes petulantly. “Come on, it was a matter of time and you know it. I was lucky the bastards in Atlas are too snobbish to come down to Mantle and properly oversee the industrial area- no offense Weiss.”

“None taken,” Weiss replies, partly amused.

“It’s easy to slip some things through the cracks,” Yang continues. “But workers were being questioned. I would be caught eventually, better to make my dramatic exit before it happened anyway.”

Blake shakes her head with a scoff. “Talk to her. You need to get her off Weiss’ trail.”

“Why?” Weiss asks, “Who is this _Robyn_ , the leader around here?”

Yang snorts. “No, not even Robyn Hill herself would be able to tame this place.”

“She’s someone folks look to for guidance,” Blake says, “Robyn and her people run security and keep outsiders from causing trouble, so she has a lot of say in what happens here.”

“Blake’s being modest,” Yang says, “they respect her just as much as they do Robyn.”

Blake rolls her eyes this time. “That’s not true. When people are scared, she’s the one they go to.”

“Just because she has most of the guns.”

“And the manpower,” Blake says. “And Polendina’s ear.”

“But you have the _bar_ ,” Yang says with a grin. “You just need to realize the power you hold.”

“For the last time, it’s not-”

“Do you two always talk so _freely_ about such subjects with strangers?” Weiss asks, raising an eyebrow. She has been reading their interaction closely, if the intensity of her gaze is anything to go by.

“I feel like I’ve just been insulted,” Yang says, mock hurt. “And no, we don’t. Only with those we trust.”

“And you decided you trust _me_?” Weiss says, full of skepticism.

“Yep,” Yang replies.

Weiss looks at Blake then. “Surely you’re more cautious?”

“Of course. _Someone_ here has to be,” Blake says, “but… I tend to agree with Yang that actions say more about someone than words ever could.”

Weiss’ expression softens just enough for her to appear conflicted. “I see. And you’re not worried I’ll run back to them and tell where you’re hiding?”

“Oh they already know where you are, I can guarantee that,” Blake says, “you and Yang weren’t exactly being subtle, easy to track a _bright yellow motorcycle_ through the camera grid to the border of the Free Zone.” She gives Yang a pointed look. “They would just need to find the right building.”

“Then won’t SDC security eventually come and force their way in to take us?” Weiss says, alarmed.

“Now you understand my worry,” Blake says, “remember what I said about people being scared? Yeah.”

“Okay, okay, enough stressing,” Yang tries to appease by getting them in motion. “First I’ll go talk to Robyn, give her the gift I brought back and a story, so she can sit still for a while.” She finds her bags on a table, takes a warm jacket to wear, and slings the black one over her shoulder, from which she pulls out a few tiny, sealed canisters and places them back over the metal surface. “Then we’ll figure out the next steps.”

“Is that full of-” Blake asks, raised eyebrows.

“Yes,” Yang says, “why do you think they’re so mad at me?” She smirks and starts walking towards the door, still facing them. “You two, behave.”

* * *

Walking briskly through the cold, gloomy street – not even sunlight can make this place look cheerful – helps Yang to breathe easy, the physical activity calming her down somewhat. Truth is, she’s a lot more nervous about the whole situation than she has been letting on. It feels like her life is on a timer now. There is no one outside – they prefer to stay indoors most of the day for safety – so her thoughts are allowed to run wild and heavy. Unpleasantly so.

Yang stops in front of a building very similar to the others, with a bird-like symbol spray-painted beside a reinforced door. She presses the buzzer a few more times than is strictly necessary and waves fake-cheerfully at the camera she knows is pointed at her. The door unlocks remotely and she steps inside, jogging up the stairs of empty apartment floors until she gets to the top one, where all the doors are barred save one, half open.

Leaning on the frame of it is Fiona, sporting a smile. She looks relaxed as always – a good sign, hopefully – but her being here is not a courtesy.

“Hi Yang,” Fiona says, “good to see you, been a while.”

“You too.”

“You’re not armed are you?”

“’Course not,” Yang says, easy, “I know better.”

“Good,” Fiona says and opens the door for her. “Come in then.”

Yang steps into the wide space of the repurposed floor – the walls between the apartments have been removed to make one single living quarters, gear scattered all over. In the middle of the main room, sitting on a semi-circle of battered couches is Robyn, who promptly gets up – apparently they were playing some sort of old-school card game that Yang interrupted, Joanna leaning calmly on her seat spares her a nod, May remaining ever serious stares her down.

“Ah, fisticuffs.” Robyn greets her with the cocky smile that makes her sharp jawline look even more prominent. “We were worried, your face is all over the news.”

Yang is aware of Fiona’s presence, lingering a ways behind her, but Robyn has a way of stealing all the attention, like a magnet pulling her to focus.

Robyn gives her a second, expecting some answer and continues when she doesn’t get it. “I was about to go look for you, knew you would be back here.” She takes a step closer. “What happened?”

Yang slides the bag off her shoulder and throws it towards Robyn, who catches it smoothly. “It’s all I could carry.” She gives Robyn a moment to open it and assess how full it is. “Since it’s the last time.”

“That’s a lot of Dust, Yang,” Robyn says, serious, and hands it to May – who’s not even trying to hide the awe in her eyes as she carries the bag to another room, Joanna trailing behind and peeking over her shoulder. “You want to tell me why you decided to drop everything and run with all this? Oh, and a _hostage_ too apparently?”

“I thought I was alone, but some bureaucrat was inspecting at a bad time and spotted me,” Yang says, shrugs. “I picked up all I could and ran. Brought the Atlesian along so I had time to get out before the SDC jumped me and dropped them off near the Zone’s perimeter.”

“Right…” Robyn drags the word, looking entirely unconvinced.

Well.

“A safety hostage? Really?” Robyn says, shakes her head. ”That’s not your style. Not mine either, and you know that.”

“I didn’t know what else to do, I wasn’t going to hurt them,” Yang tries, clinging to some chance she might still convince her – Robyn is infuriatingly hard to lie to.

“You don’t need to do that,” Robyn says, “your reasons are your own. You’re going to be over at the Shroud I’m guessing?”

The shift throws her off. Yang nods, failing at coming up with any other response.

“Blake advocates for you. So I trust you,” Robyn continues, and her words take on a darker tone. “But you have to understand that you coming here under these circumstances brings unwanted attention. You are of course free to stay just as anyone who needs or wants is, but I would like the courtesy of you telling me the truth at some point. Soon.” She adds pointedly.

Yang is at a loss. This is definitely not what she expected, but it can work. “I get it,” she says, smiles weakly. “Thank you.”

Robyn nods once. “I hope you can come to trust me too,” she says, and her voice sounds vaguely close to a threat. “And tell Blake this is now on her.”

Yang leaves their place once more confused by Robyn. The way she maneuvers their conversations is always difficult to read, but this one in particular threw her for a loop. Most of all she hates the feeling of guilt rising in her chest. She dropped this mess on Blake’s doorstep and now it may very well hurt her position.

Again her thoughts take over: she barely registers the walk back until she’s in front of the Shroud. Yang passes by Bumblebee, checking if it’s still untouched, and is overtaken by the pull to take it out for a ride but quickly dismisses it.

She locks the door behind her and the warmer ambient inside has an immediate grounding effect. It’s quiet, empty. Yang carefully pockets the Dust canisters from where she left them and makes her way upstairs. The entrance to Blake’s apartment is open, and the sounds of conversation coming from inside slow down her stride.

Blake is sitting cross-legged in her favorite spot – a faded old single-seat sofa – holding a closed book. “-and I found most of them around here.”

Weiss is standing in front of the bookcase, slowly tracing her fingers over the spines. There’s a hint of reverence in the way she’s touching them.

Yang leans on the door frame, smiles, a dash of fondness passing through her. “Are you seriously showing off your collection of raunchy novels?”

Blake turns to look at her, clearly embarrassed. “They’re not _raunchy_!” she whips her head in Weiss’ direction then, stumbling over an explanation. “A lot of these books were erased from the digital archives and this is the only way to access them now. They’re relics, and I’m keeping them.”

“That’s very noble,” Weiss says, serious. “Some of them do have… _interesting_ titles though.”

That brings a laugh out of Yang.

“Maybe, but- but it’s not my fault those are the types of books people usually kept around their homes.” Blake raises from her seat and leans over to point at a number of volumes. “See here? There are also political treatises and literature that was labeled as subversive.”

Yang steps inside. “You never read any books before Weiss?”

Weiss tears her eyes away from the shelf to look indignantly at her. “Of course I have, who do you take me for? I read countless volumes.” She pulls out one of them and starts carefully flipping through the pages. “But they were all digitalized. And assigned to me by my father. I didn’t think physical copies even existed anymore.”

“Well you’re welcome to read these while you’re here,” Blake says.

“There will for sure be time for it,” Yang says, “we’ll probably be cooped up in here for a while.”

“Right, how did it go with Robyn?” Blake asks.

“It was… weird. She didn’t buy my story but didn’t push for answers, just asked for us to talk to her about it sometime.”

“Then, what, I’m supposed to sit in this apartment and _read_ until either this person or my father show up to take me?” Weiss asks forcefully. “Because that’s what your _brilliant_ plan is sounding like.”

“Hey, I told you no one is forcing you to stay.” Blake bristles.

“Can we-” Yang massages her temple. “Can we calm down? That’s not the plan, alright?”

“I apologize,” Weiss says, “a lot has been happening very quickly lately so perhaps I’m a little… _concerned_.”

“That’s understandable,” Blake says. “Don’t worry about Robyn too much, I just need to find a way to convince her you’re not a spy or anything like it. But before I can do that, we need to figure out how to deal with Atlas.”

“What does that mean, ‘ _deal’_ with Atlas?” Weiss asks.

“Well,” Blake averts her eyes, “I don’t know yet.” she says, sits back down.

Yang can understand Weiss’ unwillingness to stay put. Waiting for things to come at her is not how she likes to deal with problems either.

Which leads her to a thought.

A dangerous one.

“I may have an idea,” Yang begins, slowly. “I don’t know what to do about Atlas, but I know something we can try to get Robyn on our side.”

“And…?” Blake prods.

“You’re not going to like it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for what is probably dangerously close to a cliffhanger here, but that was the only point I could fit a cut that didn't mess with the flow so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> The next one will come out quick though, so hopefully no harm done.


End file.
